Harlequin.. Till this moment your lordship has been pleased to think so.
Eglantine.. The country girl that sang. I had her sent away.
Harlequin.. Since the song caused your lordship some discomfort.
Eglantine.. Stop her before she goes. [He takes the parchment from the table.] Stay, give me pen and ink. This is for her when the name is altered. Her home I think you said....
[Harlequin vanishes again. Eglantine most carefully erases the one name and writes in the other. Then he rises, pistol in hand, and faces himself in mirror, looks himself full in the face.
And now, Lord Eglantine, since you are he! Peg for clothes, scribbler of epigrams, now to end and for ever your tailor's dream.
[And he fires. But he doesn't fall. Instead, the mirror cracks and a puff of smoke comes from it. Alice must not interrupt the story or she would; and she aches to, because she always fears the audience may not grasp the point. Lord Eglantine was a reflection of his time in the polished mirror of his age. Until he blew the reflection into smithereens, he had no soul, no reality. A wig, a box of patches, snuff, silk, lace, a clouded cane, a neat sense for words, that was Eglantine, and now he has become, in all humility, a man. Back comes Harlequin to find him.
Harlequin.. My lord!
Eglantine.. A slight accident.
Harlequin.. The noise has wakened our neighbours.